


I dive into you like water; I sink like a stone

by unkemptseeker



Series: We lived a life of: Almost [4]
Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, F/M, Secret Relationship, Walt Longmire Roast Club, as the great Mariah Carey once said "season 6 I don't know her", cady appreciates none of walt's bullshit, canon crappy parent/child relationship, hey uh longmire writers turn on your locations I just wanna talk, i AM bitter about it thanks for asking, i am not a walt stan and never will be again sorry, just kidding that's fake news, on the edge of too much smushy romance, sorry canon made me this way, theoretically out of character, these two deserve every ounce of smushy romance, undetermined amount of time has passed since s5, walt's canon typical shitty behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkemptseeker/pseuds/unkemptseeker
Summary: Cady has a sleep deprived morning, takes a bath, and goes to breakfast.
Relationships: Cady Longmire/Jacob Nighthorse
Series: We lived a life of: Almost [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786264
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	I dive into you like water; I sink like a stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jackandsamforever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackandsamforever/gifts).



> Once upon a time Ash and I had a way too long discussion about Walt waking Cady up at 1am for some dumbass bullshit and then all hell breaking loose, then she made [this set of texts](https://cady-nighthorse.tumblr.com/post/635088444092219392/irrational-nighthorse-obsession-did-thisa) which really set the tone so go read them!! 
> 
> This is so far removed from canon it's practically in outer space but tumblr said I'm allowed to be self indulgent so SUCK IT S6!
> 
> Why, yes, it IS another song lyric title ;) Water by Bishop Briggs.
> 
> Knowing me, somewhere there's a fucking typo, I can't handle that information right now so ignore it, I beg of you lol...

The sound of the door slamming shut leaves a deep, satisfying echo in the morning light, the air heavy and cold around her. She pauses, breathing out her fury and blinks, staring into nothingness for a moment, contemplating all things she’ll never say to her dad, the stubborn asshole, then begins the trek to the front door.

The meticulously raked gravel makes its typical crunching sound under her insulated winter boots, and she tugs her thick wool oversized sweater down over her leggings more, growling under her breath as she reaches the covered breezeway that leads to the house. Jacob’s car wasn’t in it’s normal spot--she’d noticed when she’d pulled up--so she lets the front door slam too, stomping down the hall and tugging off her boots and leaving them in a pile of fine snow and bits of dirt; instead of hanging them upside down on the metal rack. 

“Later,” she mutters to herself, shuffling down the hall, past the kitchen and around the corner, stalking past the great room, a haze of blue light pouring in through the massive floor to ceiling windows. 

The house is silent except for the sound of the central heat, the low hum that follows her down the long hallway does nothing to calm her simmering rage at her dad’s rude behavior, and she shuts the bedroom door behind her with a loud click. 

“Fucking asshole,” she says to the air a moment later, her voice muffled by the fact that she’s pulling the sweater over her head. Finally free of the fabric, she dumps it in the tall laundry basket on her side of the closet. Her leggings and socks join the almost full basket, then her underwear too. She storms into the bathroom naked and pissed, sits on the edge of Jacob’s ridiculously oversized bathtub and turns the water on as hot as it goes. 

She debates bubbles versus no bubbles for a minute and then climbs off the edge of the tub and digs in a low cabinet, dumping half a bag of epsom salt and a glug of lavender bubble soap in. She shoves the containers between the ledge of the bathtub and the glass wall of the shower and swirls the water with her foot before climbing in. 

Closing her eyes, she sinks into the half filled tub and lets the noise of the water drown out her urge to get in the jeep and drive to the Sheriff’s office and give her dad a piece of her mind once and for all. Glorious, quiet minutes tick by, and as the bubbles rise higher she can smell the lavender in the air, her rage melting away slowly. 

“Fucking man child,” she mutters, trying to release the last bit of her anger; the water and bubbles lapping at her shoulders as her mind replays his texts. 

The sound of water stops abruptly and her eyes fly open, her hands slippery against the side of the tub in her haste to sit up, her heart pounding even as she takes in Jacob sitting on the edge of the tub. 

“Sorry,” he says, touching her face briefly with a few fingers. “That bad huh?” 

Her face burns, she can feel her skin rippling with a temper induced flush, and she looks away, making a furious noise in the back of her throat, avoiding looking at him so he can’t see how upset she is. Not that that’s ever worked in the year they’ve been together. 

“When did you get back?” She asks instead of answering him, her eyes still trained on the geometric tile along the bottom of the window above the bathtub, desperate to change the subject. 

“Didn’t leave, not really,” he answers, raising an eyebrow at her when she practically gives herself whiplash, turning towards him again. “You slamming a few doors is light years less embarrassing then David’s wife screaming about him cheating on her in the background during the last Zoom.” 

She laughs loudly, then covers her face and lets her eyes close momentarily. “He’s just….being the way he’s always been,” she finally says, letting the tiredness creep into her voice. 

Jacob makes a noise of acknowledgement and then brushes a few damp strands of hair off her shoulder. “Room in there for me?” 

“Was that a legit question?” She sasses, trying to lighten the mood and moving back, making room for him to get in. 

“Close your eyes,” he says, gently putting his hand over her face. 

“Seriously?” She touches his hand with hers, then sighs, pushing water towards him, knowing it won’t actually splash up. “Fine.” 

He doesn't move right away, keeping his hand lightly covering her face, his fingers caressing her skin until her shoulders drop from their tense position. 

She can hear him leave the room, and she can hear him in the closet, the drawers opening and closing in the built-in shelving, and then she can hear him walking across the warmed tile floor. 

“Ok.” He says a moment later, the water rippling around her as he settles. She opens her eyes then immediately hoists herself up to climb right into his lap, pressing her face into his. 

“You can be mad, Cady.” 

“I’m not mad,” she lies, and she’s not sure why, she’s fucking furious, they both know it. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks.” 

He snorts, his breath warm against her damp face, and she sinks further into him as one of his hands traces up her spine. “It does matter Cady, to you. Which is why it matters to me.” 

_No, fuck, don’t cry,_ she tells herself, even as tears well up in her eyes. She keeps her face pressed into his shoulder and tries to breath regularly, but he knows her well enough that he takes his hand off her back and presses it into her face, forcing her to look at him. 

“I’m worried you’re going to get tired of this fucking nonsense,” she says, not able to look him in the eyes, hot tears running down her face. 

“I’ve been tired of Walt since the day we met, but that has nothing to do with you,” he says firmly, wiping at her face. 

“You say that now,” she starts, sniffing. “But…” She pauses, the majority of her earlier anger now replaced with a healthy amount of nerves. She shoves a hand into a massive pile of bubbles as a distraction and then sighs, swishing her hand clean and looping her arm around his shoulder, playing with his hair. “I don’t care if he ever approves, it’s not his life.” 

“So..let him stomp around and bitch all he wants, as long as you’re sure that this is where you want to be Cady.” 

She pulls back a little, and raises an eyebrow. “I mean, my only complaint is that you know, we had to cancel our trip to Paris,” she says, pouting theatrically. “A bathtub in Paris would be better.” 

Her tiny smirk turns into a loud shriek of laughter as he wraps an arm around and kisses her face repeatedly, his beard rough against her skin. 

“That’s fair,” he says, several minutes later, grasping her hand that’s in the water. “I was looking forward to Paris too.” 

She feels _something_ brush against her palm and she tries to pull her hand away, but he holds her still, catching her eye. “Wait,” he says, and she freezes, one hand clutching his shoulder, the other still under the water. 

When she figures out what he’s doing, approximately five seconds later, her heart feels like it’s about to stop completely. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” she says breathlessly, before he can even finish sliding the ring on her finger. 

\-- 

The loud, repeating sound of her second alarm throws her out of a very bizarre dream about bunnies, a cone of cotton candy, and wandering down old train tracks and Cady whines from under a mountain of covers. 

“...the hell is it already that late,” Jacob says sleepily from somewhere behind her, and she whines again when she feels his hand curl around her hip as she smacks her hand down on the nightstand. Once the alarm is silenced, she rubs her eyes and makes a disgruntled sound, rolling over and into him, burrowing back under the blankets and pressing her face into his. 

“How are you already cold,” he huffs, reaching an arm up to hold her as he leans in and kisses her lazily and sweetly. 

“Fireplace is off,” she says against his lips, then sits up on her elbow a little and kisses along his jawline. “I have to get up,” she whispers in his ear, making a pouty face at him and shifting up to her knees, taking a chunk of the blankets with her. 

She watches him stretch and debates just texting and canceling breakfast but then sighs loudly, knowing if she doesn’t go today, it’ll just make the whole week that much harder. 

Jacob’s hand caressing her face and sliding into her hair makes her jump a little and she puts one hand on top of his and wraps the other around his wrist. “Tell me I can cancel,” she asks, even though she already knows the answer. 

She expects him to give her his trademark eyebrow raise, or his smirky grin, but instead he practically pounces on her, wrapping his arms around her and hauling her into him in a tangled pile of limbs that makes her feel way too giddy considering what’s ahead. He holds her tight and presses his face into her shoulder, kissing up her neck. 

“The faster you go, the faster you can come home,” he says, holding her face briefly, before letting her go completely. 

Fifty-three minutes later she pulls into the parking lot of the Red Pony and parks, taking several deep breaths. She shakes her head at herself in the rearview mirror and then tries to relax her tense shoulder muscles, knowing that all that was going to happen in the next few minutes was that her dad was going to act like a giant child and they’d all have to waste their precious energy calming him down. 

She climbs out of her Jeep, shoving her phone in her back pocket and pushes the door shut, blinking in surprise when Henry turns into the parking lot, pulling up beside her. 

“I thought you were already here?” She says when he gets out of the truck, confused enough to not stick to their standard somewhat mockingly polite greetings. 

“Somebody…” Henry began, with an annoyed look that turned into an tired grin, “Broke my coffee maker about ten minutes ago, so I went to the cabin and stole both of Walt’s french presses.” 

She sputters a little laugh and gestures for him to go ahead of her, the box in his arms full of Walt’s coffee equipment, mugs, and a random bottle of orange juice. 

“I’m sorry he’s involving you in this unnecessary drama,” Cady says, reaching around him and opening the front door with her right hand, and holding it open with her booted foot. 

“I cannot just leave you and Victoria to deal with him, it is unfair to you, and quite frankly, she will just shoot him. Not that he would not deserve it.” Henry says jokingly as he grins at her before he passes through the saloon doors. 

She follows him a moment later after locking the exit door and immediately spots her dad and Vic sitting at the bar. Her dad is hunched over a bottle of beer despite the morning hour and Vic is sprawled across multiple stools, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

Henry announces her presence and Vic spins off and hits the ground with an impressive landing, waving her finger in Walt’s direction before crossing the room and raising a dark eyebrow, a half smile tugging at her lips. 

“C’mon, Henry made food, and one pot before Walt fuckin’ broke the damn coffee maker. And I need a lot of caffeine, bet you do too.” 

Cady lets Vic lead her through the maze of still stacked chairs on tables and through the bar, and then Vic lets her go when they reach the landing to Henry’s apartment. 

She can hear Henry and her dad at the bottom of the stairs, but she’s more interested in the spread of breakfast on the table than her dad's impending fit. She tugs her sleeves down and over her fingers before she plucks a blueberry muffin off a pile of assorted others, feeling Vic’s eyes burning into her. 

Half the muffin is shoved in her mouth when her dad stalks into the room, glowering at her while he practically throws himself down on the couch. 

“Seriously?!” She says, through her full mouth, rolling her eyes. 

Vic, who’s got a mug in her hand and has already taken a big gulp, sticks her foot out and kicks Walt’s boot, making a face at him. “For fucks sake, Walt,” Vic says, sighing loudly. “Try to be less of an asshole.” 

“Here.” 

Henry’s voice sounds from right next to her and Cady twitches for a second but then smiles, taking the cup of coffee he’s offering her. “Thank you,” she says after taking several sips, dragging a chair out from under the table with her foot, holding onto her food and coffee. 

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” 

Her dad’s voice is practically a growl and the whole room goes awkwardly silent. 

She can feel her jaw clench for a minute, and then she takes a deep breath through her nose, and lets it out of her mouth, sitting up tall in the chair and meeting his eyes. “You texted me at one in the morning, you bailed on me after you said it was important, and you’re the one with a problem. I’m not sure what you want me to say....” 

He starts ranting, standing up and throwing his arms around, and he doesn’t stop when Henry or Vic try to interject. They both look at her repeatedly as he shouts and stomps around, but she just shrugs, finishing her muffin and sipping on her warm coffee. 

“He’ll stop when he runs out of steam, if he gets it all out now, he might shut up later,” she says to Vic, who’s finally given up and drags a chair to sit next to her. 

“You need to stop seeing him.” Walt finishes on a heaving breath, blinking at her when she dissolves into laughter, the mug shaking in her hand. 

After calming down, she clears her throat and lets the amused smile fade off her face, fixing him with a sharp look, “No. Hell no. Absolutely not, never.” She gives him a fake smile, and then lets it drop too, rolling her eyes. “So glad we settled that,” she continues sarcastically, getting up and throwing her muffin wrapper in the trash, then sliding up to Henry’s counter and refilling her coffee, yanking at the cuffs of her sweater. 

Her dismissal starts a whole new rant, and she stays at the counter, leaning against it and grabs Henry’s arm when he tries to stop Walt, who’s apparently reached the peak of his anger and is yelling so hard his face is flushed and his hat, and jacket are on the floor. 

“Him or me,” her dad threatens, and she can hear Henry and Vic make exasperated noises, Vic’s followed by a string of cursing. 

Her jaw tightens, and she opens her mouth just as her phone goes off, the whole room jumping at the loud sound. She pulls it out of her pocket and declines the call, then crosses her arms and tilts her head. “Guess I shouldn’t expect you to come to breakfast anytime soon,” she says, and the room stays eerily silent as she pushes off the counter. “This has been real fun,” she continues sarcastically, dumping her half full cup of coffee down Henry’s sink and rinsing out the mug. “I’ll talk to some of you later, I guess.” 

“Cady, you can’t possibly be serious.” His voice is hoarse and shocked and she stops at the stairwell, turning on her heel. 

She presses her lip together and narrows her eyes, gesturing at him with her left hand, still hidden by the oversized sleeve of her sweater. “ _You_ sounded pretty serious, so why would I not be? You do know that I’m not responsible for your feelings, right?! And you can either find a way to be okay with my choices, and respect me, or you can keep missing out.” She pauses, taking a deep breath and then pushes up the sleeve of her sweater, holding up her left hand. “Is this serious enough for you?”


End file.
